Ordinary Extraordinary Me

“20 gods and goddesses for 2020” (in Spanish: “20 Dioses y Diosas para 2020”) by photographer Ana Martinez and stylist Mario Ville Kattaca.

I had always been good at school. Not just good, the best. Or at the very least, one of the best.

With this in mind, it was with great shock that I received my first bad result in my first year of medical school. It was not just bad, it was the worst. The legendary Anatomy first incourse. I wore black clothes for three days after seeing that score, with a matching face cap to boot. A period of mourning, if you will.

Perhaps that was symbolic, for while I have come a long way from that chaotic time, I have never been able to regain my title as The Best.

Being smart was who I was and all I knew. I have never been anything else. Not the artsy girl, the acting girl, the fashion girl, the funny girl, certainly not the cool or the pretty girl.

What did it matter to me if there was more to life? The smart girl reigned supreme because she had a higher chance of becoming a renowned professional in her chosen field, rich and married.

My father had always wanted brilliant children, extraordinary children. In the days of my academic stardom, I was his pride and joy. In more recent times, I have been a mammoth disappointment to him and I see and hear it everyday.

My 300 level result was pronounced 'mediocre’, but I spent a good many weeks feeling pleasantly surprised that I got into 400 level at all!

Medical school is hard for everybody, some more than others. I often see things I can improve upon, in hindsight. Study techniques, consistency, spaced repetition.

I also find that I have little desire to do these things. Or perhaps a less desire than what is considered normal or average. No commitment. No determination.

On realizing this fact, I bemoaned the state of my life and went down a spiral of negative self talk.

You’re not that great after all.

In the end, you’re just like everybody else. Only, you’re worse!

Can you even think properly? You probably can’t think and that’s the reason you’re failing. You can’t think things through!

What kind of doctor are you going to be?

I settled in this darkness.

Then COVID happened. This period ushered in a series of phenomenal events.

I recreated an Anthony Azekwoh writing challenge for a few weeks. I wrote some of my best work in that time.

Then I decided I wanted to be rich. I engaged in a series of Ponzi schemes and network marketing businesses. I worked. HARD. Harder than I have ever worked in my whole life and I did not stop until I was ill and completely exhausted. And even then, I stopped because I was convinced God was not on board with the whole project.

I did not achieve my goal. In fact, thanks to the Buhari-CMUL stronghold over my life, I’m even worse off than I was before.

But, my work ethic was shocking. My determination, unparalleled. My drive to succeed no matter what was unwavering.

A sharp contrast to the me who had told herself she was essentially a loser.

Initially, I thought I could use this new experience to propel myself back into the life of academic excellence. So far, I haven’t had much success. I have noticed my attitude to school work has improved, but not much else.

I have to say, academic accomplishments are not nearly as good a motivator as the prospect of untold riches.

In more recent times, I have been plagued by a number of what-ifs.

What if I can find things that bring out the go-getter me who is as tough as nails? What if that version of me spreads to other aspects of my life? What if I can be the 'always-has-her-shit-together' girl? What if I can be the cool girl? What if I can be extraordinary?

As with academic achievements and wealth, all of this will require some work, some learning and unlearning. (I am especially shocked at the level of commitment and money that is required to be the pretty girl!)

I took one step by applying to the Global Arts in Medicine Fellowship 2021 Summer Cohort and I got accepted. I am convinced that I can’t possibly end up as a clinician and I want to see what other possibilities exist. I am excited about all the things I’m going to learn as an Arts in Medicine Fellow and the things that lie in store for me beyond that.

I am going to do it. I am going to be extraordinary.